~~sense is overrated.
Apr. 7th, 2003 06:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkai have this rather insane urge to talk about myself. just, lalalala, today it snowed, and i thought about the nature of the universe. it's very unnatural. i'm also thinking about a new, shorter entry style. maybe i'll turn this journal lite purple, on the verge of pink. my text will be red, and somehow i'll make it sparkle. somehow.
someone asked me to consider why i'm interesting, and how do i present myself as such, so that other people find me interesting. not so much that i should work at it, but more-- i should take care of it. like hair. my "image". my "thing". it's like that thing where you try to be funny, but you don't realize it, maybe? all in all, it's time for a change of identity. it's spring, and one usually cleans around this time, except i'm too lazy. my head is also stuffy with pointless facts and hopeless little noises about eternal love and stuff.
i realized that i'm oblivious-- that i think, well, i'll just be myself and i can't go wrong. but i -can- go wrong. people may actually misunderstand me all the time, and i wouldn't even know it until it's too late. and i'll be unprepared for the moment of truth, when they say something and i won't be ready, and it'll be like, see! see! we caught you!
mostly it's because i live without a strategy, and also i don't easily follow linear trajectories. "today i'll do this" never works out perfectly. if i say i'll do this, maybe i'll do it after a zillion other things. or maybe i'll just fall asleep.
i can talk about myself, but it wouldn't be interesting to anyone.
there is no point to this entry. i'm just taking up space, like the man on top of the mountain. i can see you! i can see the fields, and the countryside, and the little people with their shovels. and let me tell you, you all have shovels. i whistled up the mountain, and i sat down. i waited, and waited, and waited for inspiration or the Great White Whale to come and smite me, but the whale never came. obviously, i haven't waited long enough.
am i the only one who can talk about nothing forever? obviously not.
does being a writer involve an ability to talk about nothing forever? sometimes i think so.
why must everything turn out to be a Deep Thought??
i like peas. no, i hate peas. that is the truth. i eat them, lately, but when i as a child, oh, how i hated boiled peas. you're rather passionate about these things as a child. all that passion-- now, you play videogames. then, you hated peas. it's a toss-up which is more entertaining to whom.
and look, a long entry.
see? see? this is why i had a fandom journal. this is just frightening. i can write 100 pages like this. 200. i can go on and on until i'm old and grey, and frighteningly, i will have said -nothing- by the end. and yet, strangely, sometimes it's hard im'ing people. i can only really amuse myself with any frequency. oh, people laugh at me (it's not unlikely some are laughing right now), but it's just not the same.
the answer to all these things is obviously to do my homework. or to read highlander porn. or 42. 43? no, 42. yes.
someone asked me to consider why i'm interesting, and how do i present myself as such, so that other people find me interesting. not so much that i should work at it, but more-- i should take care of it. like hair. my "image". my "thing". it's like that thing where you try to be funny, but you don't realize it, maybe? all in all, it's time for a change of identity. it's spring, and one usually cleans around this time, except i'm too lazy. my head is also stuffy with pointless facts and hopeless little noises about eternal love and stuff.
i realized that i'm oblivious-- that i think, well, i'll just be myself and i can't go wrong. but i -can- go wrong. people may actually misunderstand me all the time, and i wouldn't even know it until it's too late. and i'll be unprepared for the moment of truth, when they say something and i won't be ready, and it'll be like, see! see! we caught you!
mostly it's because i live without a strategy, and also i don't easily follow linear trajectories. "today i'll do this" never works out perfectly. if i say i'll do this, maybe i'll do it after a zillion other things. or maybe i'll just fall asleep.
i can talk about myself, but it wouldn't be interesting to anyone.
there is no point to this entry. i'm just taking up space, like the man on top of the mountain. i can see you! i can see the fields, and the countryside, and the little people with their shovels. and let me tell you, you all have shovels. i whistled up the mountain, and i sat down. i waited, and waited, and waited for inspiration or the Great White Whale to come and smite me, but the whale never came. obviously, i haven't waited long enough.
am i the only one who can talk about nothing forever? obviously not.
does being a writer involve an ability to talk about nothing forever? sometimes i think so.
why must everything turn out to be a Deep Thought??
i like peas. no, i hate peas. that is the truth. i eat them, lately, but when i as a child, oh, how i hated boiled peas. you're rather passionate about these things as a child. all that passion-- now, you play videogames. then, you hated peas. it's a toss-up which is more entertaining to whom.
and look, a long entry.
see? see? this is why i had a fandom journal. this is just frightening. i can write 100 pages like this. 200. i can go on and on until i'm old and grey, and frighteningly, i will have said -nothing- by the end. and yet, strangely, sometimes it's hard im'ing people. i can only really amuse myself with any frequency. oh, people laugh at me (it's not unlikely some are laughing right now), but it's just not the same.
the answer to all these things is obviously to do my homework. or to read highlander porn. or 42. 43? no, 42. yes.
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no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 04:22 pm (UTC)I really do. I can't explain it just...happens.